Restoring the Ashkenazi Synagogue of Sarajevo will enrich all communities in this diverse city steeped in history

Sarajevo is also remembered for its suffering. For 1,425 days, between 1992 and 1996, its people lived under siege. Going to buy bread or collect water could cost you your life.

The war left deep wounds; it would be wrong to romanticise Sarajevo as a story of peaceful coexistence. Terrible crimes were committed, and divisions sadly remain in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

But there were also people who refused to abandon their neighbours. Some stayed because they could not leave; others because they loved their city and the people who lived in it.

Among those who helped was La Benevolencija, Sarajevo’s Jewish cultural, educational and humanitarian society. During the siege, its volunteers distributed food and medicines to people of every background. They did not ask whether someone was Jewish, Muslim, Catholic or Orthodox before offering help. They saw people in need and did what they could. That, too, is part of Sarajevo’s history, and it deserves to be remembered.

I have lived in London for almost all my adult life, but Sarajevo and Bosnia and Herzegovina remain close to my heart. When Vladimir Andrle, president of La Benevolencija, told me about efforts to restore the roof of the city’s Ashkenazi Synagogue, I wanted to help.

Built in 1902, the synagogue is now the only functioning synagogue in Bosnia and Herzegovina. It stands beside the Miljacka river and has been part of Sarajevo’s life for more than 120 years. It is not simply a beautiful old building. It is a place where Jewish people still pray, gather, mark important moments in their lives and keep their traditions alive.

Sarajevo synagogue photographed not long after its construction in 1902[Missing Credit]

Today, its copper roof is badly deteriorated. Water is damaging its walls and ceilings, threatening original decorations, sacred objects and archives. Each period of heavy rain brings more damage. Unless the roof is repaired, much of what has survived for more than a century could be lost. Vladimir tells me that the first phase of restoration will cost approximately €250,000 (£210,300). Around €50,000 has so far been secured, including support from the regional Ministry of Culture and Sport.

For a community of only a few hundred people, the shortfall is a heavy burden. I am heartened that the Islamic Community in Bosnia and Herzegovina is also contributing to the repairs. It is a generous act of solidarity, and a reminder that protecting Sarajevo’s Jewish heritage is a shared responsibility.

Jews have lived in Sarajevo for more than 450 years. Sephardic Jews found a home in Ottoman Bosnia after their expulsion from Spain. Ashkenazi Jews arrived later, particularly under Austro-Hungarian rule. Jewish families became part of the city’s commerce, medicine, education and cultural life. Ladino, the language of the Sephardic Jews, was once heard in its streets.

Street view of the synagogue[Missing Credit]

Before the Second World War, Sarajevo was home to a thriving Jewish community, with two distinct congregations – Sephardic and Ashkenazi – six synagogues and dozens of Jewish cultural, educational, sports, charitable and other organisations. Jews made up approximately one-fifth of Sarajevo’s population. The Holocaust destroyed much of it. Many survivors rebuilt their lives elsewhere. The war of the 1990s brought further departures. Today, the small Jewish community remains an important part of Sarajevo.

Sarajevo is also home to one of the world’s most remarkable Jewish manuscripts, the Sarajevo Haggadah. Created in 14th-century Spain, it contains illustrated prayers and readings for Passover. It is recognised by UNESCO as part of the world’s documentary heritage.

During the Second World War, Jozo Petrović, director of the National Museum, and Derviš Korkut, a Muslim curator, helped keep it safe from the Nazis. According to a well-known account, it was hidden in a mosque in a mountain village.

Coloured tiling in the synagogue has been worn down and faded away[Missing Credit]

Korkut and his wife, Servet, also sheltered a young Jewish woman, Mira Papo, in their home. They protected her despite the danger. Yad Vashem later recognised them as Righteous Among the Nations. The Haggadah survived both the war and Sarajevo’s siege half a century later. Today, it remains in the city.

I think often about this story. A Muslim man helped save a Jewish book. He and his wife saved a Jewish woman’s life. They did not share her faith, but they understood what was at stake. We should not have to wait for terrible events before recognising such obligations to one another.

We live in troubling times. Antisemitism is once again a serious concern across Europe, including here in Britain. Jewish communities face hostility and suspicion. Muslims, too, experience prejudice. Wars and political divisions make it easier to blame entire communities for the actions of governments and harder to recognise the fears and suffering of others. Bosnia is not immune. Its divisions remain deep, and Jewish and Roma citizens still face discrimination under the Dayton Peace Accord’s constitutional arrangements. Sarajevo’s history offers no guarantee that people will always live peacefully together.

Details of the exterior reveal the damage that restoration would repair[Missing Credit]

But it reminds us that there is a choice. La Benevolencija made that choice during the siege, as did Derviš and Servet Korkut during the Second World War. They could not change the world around them, but they could decide how to treat the person in front of them.

We cannot end every conflict or remove every prejudice. But we can help protect Sarajevo’s synagogue. The immediate task is clear. The roof must be repaired. The water must be stopped. The building, its archives and the sacred objects inside must be protected. But I hope this can also become something more.

I would hope to see Jewish communities in Britain and elsewhere join people in Bosnia and Herzegovina and its diaspora, alongside religious communities, businesses and cultural institutions, to help save the synagogue.

Some can give money; others can help raise it or bring the appeal to those who can. Once the building is secure, more young people could visit and learn about Sarajevo’s Jewish history. Schools, universities and cultural organisations could work with the Jewish community on exhibitions and educational programmes, helping others understand what the synagogue means to those who worship there.

The synagogue must remain, first and foremost, a Jewish place of worship, with its community deciding its future. But its preservation should matter to everyone who cares about Bosnia and Herzegovina and the Jewish presence in Europe.

I am writing for readers of the JC because Jewish communities in Britain understand how much a synagogue means. It is a place of prayer, but also of family, memory and belonging. For a small community, losing such a place would mean losing something that could never be fully recovered. Sarajevo’s Jewish heritage is part of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s history, just as Jewish history is part of Europe’s.

We cannot claim to value that history and then leave a small community to preserve it alone. Nor should we be content to remember Jewish life only through museums and stories of the past. We should want it to continue. The synagogue should remain open, for people to pray there, for children to learn their traditions and for future generations to know that Jewish life still has a home in Sarajevo.

This is a modest aim compared with the great problems of our time. It requires no grand declarations. It requires people to give what they can, and to care enough to act. I hope readers will consider helping the Jewish community of Sarajevo complete the work before further damage is done.

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If you would like to contact the Jewish Community of Sarajevo directly or learn more about the restoration project, please feel free to reach out at obnova.sinagoge@gmail.com or go to jzbih.ba/obnova-krova-askenaske-sinagoge-u-sarajevu/